


Survival

by kynical



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kynical/pseuds/kynical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles believes he can understand. Written as a fill to this kink meme prompt http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/2292.html?thread=929268#t929268</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival

Charles finds Erik in the kitchen scraping blue-green mold off an otherwise excellent Vermont cheddar.

Charles noticed the small things first : the way Erik's arm curls protectively around his plate, the flashes of anger when Hank scrapes a half-full plate into the garbage bin, the way Erik nods in approval when Alex cleans his plate and Raven's.

"Don't you think that's a bit excessive Erik?" Charles already knows the answer, but he's half-afraid direct confrontation combined with Erik's reaction would necessitate completely replacing all the appliances.

Erik sets the cheese down very carefully and looks at him, "Don't worry, Charles. I'm not going to pin Hank's hand to his plate with his fork." Hands on the counter, "That is what you're concerned about isn't it?" His voice is neither dismissive or challenging. Only weary.

The tone catches Charles off-guard. He was expecting the familiar rage and pain that made up the sharp angles and contours of Erik's mind. He wonders for a moment if this isn't some trick to catch him off balance.

"I'm worried about you." He wants to reach out, to wrap his fingers around Erik's wrist and feel the racing pulse beneath, calm. He doesn't of course; it's neither the time or place for the intimacy of touch.

Erik gives him an indulgent smile like one gives a child. "Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?"

How is he supposed to answer? Erik is an unstable element. He diffuses Erik with the only weapon he has. Honesty.  
He holds up his hands, palms open, "I'm trying to understand."

"This isn't about food Charles. This is about survival." A fine tremor runs through Erik's long fingers as he uncurls them. It's as open an invitation as Charles will get.

He's in Erik's mind then, gliding down the limbic system. Erik's mind hoards memories as fiercely as he hoards food. At this level Charles is still able to maintain the illusion of distance. He follows the pain and grief and anger into the pit of Erik's experience. The camp is a canvas of human suffering filled with : staggering figures starved of dignity, food, life, hope.

The gnawing starts at the edge of Charles's mind, travels through his body to settle in his stomach. It blossoms into an agony beyond name. All he can do is crash to his knees bent over in agony. He wants nothing more then to crawl into a corner away from his body until the pain

stops,

stops,

 _stops_.

The linoleum is cold beneath Charles's trousers. Erik's arm is firm around his chest, breath warm on his ear, voice hollow as his stomach feels, "Do you understand now Charles?"

Charles whispers around the taste of bile and ashes, "Yes."  


He can't be certain whether the spasm of doubt that runs through him is his, or Erik's.


End file.
